What now?
by HR always live on
Summary: Warning, not a happy story. Harry and Ruth are happy with a baby on the way. Then tragedy strikes. Will it tear them apart? Rated M for themes and content. Chapter six up.
1. Chapter 1

Ruth woke up, feeling like she was floating in dreamy happiness. She felt so content that it took a moment for her to open her eyes. When she did, she ended up looking at her large pregnant belly. She smiled. At about eight months gone she hadn't got to the really uncomfortable beached whale stage yet. Rolling over she saw Harry awake, watching her, both love and happiness evident in his gaze. "You need to get up," she said, prodding him with her foot.

"Oh, so that's what I get for signing off early on your maternity leave is it?" he questioned. "A kick and instruction to go out to work." Ruth chuckled.

"Well, you do have a new analyst to train," she said.

"You know, no one wanted that job," Harry said. "Even for only a few months. Apparently the thought was that no one could live up to my inflated expectations. Considering they're replacing my wife." Ruth smiled.

"Temporarily," she said. "I'm not leaving MI5 because I'm becoming a mother."

"I know," he said. They'd already had this argument. Harry didn't mind, as long as she was happy. He leaned across and kissed her softly, before lowering his head and pressing a kiss to her bump. She smiled as he looked at the clock.

"God, I do have to get moving," he agreed. "I'm just going to have a quick shower."

"Mm," she said quietly, eyes flicking closed. She felt sleepy and tired, with no incentive to move. Not even with Harry naked in the shower. She didn't fit in there with him any more anyway.

She was dozing lightly when he came back into the bedroom, enough noise to make her open her eyes as he dressed. She watched in silence as he put on her favourite red tie and then put his jacket on. "I'll see you tonight," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I'll try not to be late."

"Mm, okay," she said.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

He was at the front door when he heard Ruth cry out, muffled, but definitely a cry of pain. He raced up the stairs and crashed into the bedroom. "Ruth! What is it?" She was sat up in bed, her arms clutched around her stomach, face creased in pain. "Right, I'm calling an ambulance," he said without waiting for her to answer his original question. He called one quickly, all the while his eyes on Ruth.

He abandoned his phone and put a hand on her shoulder. "What is it? What hurts?" he asked, much calmer than he felt.

"This doesn't feel right," she said, breathing coming difficulty. "Like a… gut wrenching pain. I don't know." All of a sudden she gasped. "Oh God no!" she cried out.

"What?" he insisted. She pulled back the bed sheets and he saw quite clearly, what. Deep red blood was staining the white sheets, flowing steadily from between Ruth's legs. Harry felt his face go numb with shock. "Oh my God."

"That's not helping," she said, tears in her eyes. "No, no, no, this can't be happening," she said firmly. Harry managed with great difficulty to put his own fears aside for a few moments and looked at her critically. The blood was slowing down, it wasn't leaving her in a gush any longer. She'd gone white, clutching her stomach in desperation and she groaned as another pain went through her.

"The ambulance won't be long," he said, at a loss to find anything else to say.

"Harry…" she looked up, her eyes full of fear. "What if…"

"It's all going to be okay," he said. "I promise, everything will be fine."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she warned as they heard a siren approaching the house. Harry had nothing to say. All he could do was kiss the top of her head and hold her as they waited for help.

* * *

The ambulance journey had been relatively uneventful. It was a short journey to the hospital, and all the paramedics had done was radio ahead to the hospital to get an OB, and stop the bleeding completely. Ruth's face was still pale and she was clutching hold of her bump like a lifeline. Harry could think of absolutely nothing to say, because he was as worried as she. Nothing he thought of either sounded helpful or truthful. All he did was lace his fingers through Ruth's, resting on her stomach as she was wheeled to a hospital bed, ultrasound and doctor already waiting for them. The doctor had a vapid smile on her face which made Harry want to growl at her.

"So, the paramedics told me you were in pain?"

"Yes," Ruth said. "It sort of felt like… my skin was ripping open. It's gone now though. That's good right?"

The doctor smiled but Harry could tell it was a false one. "How much blood did you lose?"

"I don't know, a lot," she said. "Look can you just use the ultrasound and tell me that my baby's okay?" she added with impatience. The doctor nodded, putting some gel on her stomach.

"You might have to prepare yourselves," the doctor said gently, looking between the two of them. "Losing a lot of blood like that isn't normal."

"No, my baby is fine," Ruth said with sheer determination and stubbornness. Harry didn't argue with her, feeling his own heart beating at about triple its normal speed. The doctor nodded and put the wand on her belly, tapping keys on the machine with her free hand. The seconds ticked by into slow minutes with no change in the room. The tense atmosphere was deadening. Harry and Ruth had both been to enough scans to know that they should be hearing a reassuringly quick and regular heartbeat by now. And they weren't. Harry shook his head, trying to deny the truth that was becoming apparent with every passing minute.

The doctor put the wand down with a sigh. "I'm so sorry," she started.

"No," Ruth said firmly.

"Your baby has no heartbeat. I'm so sorry, I'm afraid your baby has died."

Harry felt a wave of devastation slowly crash over him at the same time Ruth kept saying no, over and over again.

"You're wrong," she said simply. "My girl's fine. Of course she's fine."

The doctor moved the screen towards her. "There's no heartbeat. No movement. When was the last time you felt her kick?"

Ruth thought about it for a moment. Not this morning, she realised. Not last night either. Did she kick yesterday? Yes, she suddenly remembered. Ruth had been eating lunch and she'd felt a little kick under her ribs. "Yesterday afternoon," she said simply. "No, this can't be happening," she added. "It just can't."

"Ruth…"

"No Harry, she's wrong!" Ruth refused to accept any other reality. "Tell me she's wrong," she added, asking him. Pleading with him to make everything all right. He couldn't speak, because his throat was choked up with tears he was trying to contain.

"Oh God," was all he could manage in a hoarse voice.

"Oh just get out!" she snapped at everyone in the room, including Harry. "Leave all your negativity outside! We're fine, and just leave us alone!" She curled on her side protectively around her stomach.

The doctor left the room instantly, but Harry hovered. He put a hand on her shoulder but she angrily shrugged him off. "Our daughter is fine," she said firmly. Stubbornly. "She is fine."

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'm going to ask the doctor some questions." Ruth shrugged, staying wrapped protectively around their baby. After a moment more Harry left the room, feeling his world split in two.

* * *

**I wanted to try something that no one had done before with Harry and Ruth, and see how they'd react. I know it's a very hard topic, so I hope I will give it respect as I go through this fic. Please leave a review if you have a spare minute. Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Still a sad fic, don't read if you want happiness (unless you can persevere for a while!)**

* * *

Ruth curled up around her belly, all her focus and all her thought on the child inside her. "Okay little one, it's just me and you now," she said, her hand resting on the top of her bump. "You've had enough sleep now, just give me a little kick," she asked quietly, her palm rubbing soothing circles on her skin. "Just a flutter. Something to let me know you're okay in there." Nothing. She kept rubbing both her hands over her bump, feeling every inch of her sensitive skin, waiting, praying that there would be… something. There wasn't. She looked at the clock and realised she'd been waiting for twenty minutes. Added to that was the whole time this morning when she'd felt nothing. A kick hadn't woken her in the night, and she hadn't felt anything since yesterday. Her head went numb as she started to maybe accept the possibility that what the doctor told her might be true. Not really believing it but entertaining the thought.

Suddenly she felt a sharp pain going through her belly. She gasped for a moment, clutching her baby, and then it passed. She wondered if that was a contraction, and debated calling a nurse, but then decided against it. More bad news wasn't what she wanted to hear. Gingerly she put her hand between her legs and was relieved to find no blood at all.

She shook her head and wondered where her husband was. Harry had gone when she'd shouted and hadn't yet returned. What on earth was he doing?

* * *

Harry was leaning against a wall, trying not to cry. He was pushing his palms hard against the wall, as if that would make everything better. The rational part of his brain knew that he should be grateful Ruth was still alive. With that amount of blood, he could have lost them both. But rationality didn't help when he'd lost his daughter. And Ruth wasn't accepting it, not that he could blame her. Harry had no idea how long he stood there, replaying all the kicks he'd felt of their child over the last few months.

He did get distracted though, when the doctor came back, and pinned something to Ruth's hospital room door. He watched, wondering what the butterfly sticker was for. It became apparent what it meant the next second.

"Oh no," a nurse said as she walked past, seeing the butterfly. "Another one?"

"I can't take being the bearer of bad news again," the doctor said, shaking her head. "It's awful. Having to tell expectant parents that I'm ruining their hopes and dreams for the future. That's my second one today too." The doctor ran a hand over her face in agitation. "Can you give any other dangerous pregnancies to someone else. I can't handle any more."

"Sure," the nurse said. "Sorry." Then the doctor caught sight of Harry watching them. She blushed in embarrassment of having been overheard but approached him anyway.

"I'm sorry."

"Is there any hope at all?" he asked desperately "For the baby?"

"No," she said bluntly. "And I think that Ruth will go into labour at some point today."

"What?" Harry said in disbelief.

"Her placenta isn't ruptured through some miracle," she continued. "But the bleeding indicates that baby has to come out today, for Ruth's sake. If she doesn't go into labour, I'm going to have to give her a C section."

"Jesus Christ." He closed his eyes and prayed for the will and the courage to carry on. He'd rather be in a torture chamber right now, and having experienced the horrors of one, that was saying something. When he opened his eyes again the doctor was still there. "I don't even know your name."

"Karen," she said gently.

"What do I do?" Harry said quietly. "What on earth is someone meant to do in this situation?"

"I don't know," Karen said gently. "I don't have any explanations or ways to deal with this. I will say it will probably be better if you talk to your wife. Or shout and scream and cry, but you're both dealing with the same thing. Don't shut her out."

Harry nodded, feeling a lump in his throat which wouldn't budge. Before he could even think of anything else, they both heard a groan from Ruth's hospital room. Harry raced in there, quickly followed by the doctor. "What is it?" he asked desperately.

"Hurts," she said, curled up on her side around their child.

"Ruth, let me examine you," Karen said. "Lie on your back."

She did, reluctantly. After a minute or two the doctor straightened up. "Ruth, you're in the early stages of labour."

"I'm only eight months," she said, shaking her head. "I can't be. She's not big enough yet."

"Ruth…" Harry said, feeling total desolation rush over him.

"No," she said firmly, tears in her eyes. "No Harry. She has to be okay. As long as she's inside me, she's safe. When she's born… and then… and then…" Ruth burst into tears. Harry suddenly understood what she felt with startling clarity. As long as she still carried their daughter, she could believe that she was all right. If... no, _when_ their child was born, that comfort would be taken away from her.

Harry reached for her, catching her tears with his thumb. He forced himself to smile at her. "I know you hate everything about this," he started. "I know it's bitterly unfair, but you have to be strong."

"Harry…" she said desperately. Then she groaned as a contraction went through her.

"If it would be easier, we can give you a C section," Karen said. "So you don't have to go through labour…"

"No," she said fervently. "I don't want that. I don't want to be drugged and unaware, unable to feel."

"It might be easier," Harry said.

"Yeah, it probably would be," she agreed. "I don't want easy. I want…" she tailed off, because everyone knew what she wanted. It didn't need stating. He held her hand and squeezed, never had he felt more useless.

* * *

**Thanks to all who are reading / reviewing / sticking with it in spite of the subject matter. I hope I'm dealing with this respectfully.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Not very uplifting reading I'm afraid. "Enjoy" if that's the right word.**

* * *

"Okay Ruth. When you feel the next contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can," the doctor told her.

"No," she said desperately, shaking her head. "I can't. As long as she's inside me, she's safe."

"The baby is crowning, you have to push," the doctor said simply. Harry had hold of her hand in an iron grip, watching the pain on her face in anguish. He hadn't been looking forward to this anyway, even had their child been perfectly healthy. Ruth in pain was not something he enjoyed seeing. Knowing that the physical pain she was bearing was merely the tip of the iceberg made it so much worse.

"It'll be over soon," he said, stroking her hair, damp with sweat.

"No it won't," she said. "Its never going to be over. Because when she's born… Ah!" she cried out, a powerful contraction going through her.

"Push Ruth!" the doctor urged. She couldn't not. Every muscle in her body was forcing her to push as hard as she could. Harry's grip on her hand was the only anchor to reality she had, and then suddenly, the pain vanished.

She opened her eyes and saw the doctor's back to her, a bundle in her arms.

"No," Ruth murmured, the truth hitting her finally. "No please…" she begged. "Harry…"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, his face an impenetrable mask, hiding his feelings.

"It's a girl," the doctor said quietly, wrapping her up in a blanket. "Would you like to hold her?" Ruth nodded desperately, needing to hold her child. Needing to see the truth with her own two eyes. Harry turned away, facing the wall instead of is family. He simply couldn't bring himself to look. Ruth couldn't bring herself to look away from their daughter as she was placed in her arms, very gently. Her skin was pale, milky almost and her eyes were closed. "She's so beautiful," Ruth whispered, smiling even as the tears fell down her cheeks.

"She's perfect." And she was, except for the one rather obvious problem. Ruth leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, tears wet on her eyelashes. Her daughter was still warm. She might have been simply sleeping, except Ruth knew that warmth was from her own body. With time, their daughter would cool and be as cold as a stone. At that thought she felt a block of ice slip into her stomach. She'd never wake up. She would never laugh or cry or talk or crawl. The person she'd never grow to be.

Ruth never wanted to let her go, but she was being selfish, so she turned to Harry. "Do you want to hold her?" she asked, voice a whisper of pain.

"No," he said. He turned to face her finally, not looking at the bundle in her arms. "I'm sorry Ruth, I can't," he said, the pain clear in his voice. "I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. I'm… sorry." He turned and left the hospital room, leaving Ruth staring after him, indescribably hurt, mouth hanging open.

"Men deal with it differently," the doctor said quietly. Ruth ignored this for a moment, looking at her daughters face. She felt the cold tracks of tears down her own cheeks, but couldn't stop them, even had she wanted to.

"You know she's got her dads lips," Ruth said quietly. "That little pout he does." She ran her thumb over her child's mouth, feeling the soft flesh under her touch. She was so precious. So delicate and Ruth couldn't imagine a time that she'd ever be capable of letting her go.

"I'm going to leave you for a moment," the doctor said. "If you need anything at all, just push the call button behind you." Ruth nodded, tears blinding her for a moment. She moved her hand so she could cradle her daughters head, the skin thin over her skull. No hair at all. Ruth ran her fingers over her daughter gently, until she reached the tiny fingers. She ached with all her heart to see those little hands curl up around her own finger. Would give anything in the world for it, including her own life.

Ruth moved abruptly and put her daughter down on the bed very carefully. She unwrapped the blanket so she could see every part of their daughter for the first time. Subconsciously she'd expected there to be some obvious sign that her child was dead, but there was nothing. She wasn't tinged blue, she didn't have any birth defects, she just looked like a normal sleeping newborn. Apart from the white skin and the lack of a pink flush on her skin. Ruth leaned over her and planted a kiss in the centre of her chest, over her frail and all too fragile heart.  
"You existed. You mattered. You are so very much loved," she murmured. Tears threatened to overwhelm her again, so she wrapped her up in the blanket carefully. She didn't want her precious child to get cold.

* * *

Harry sat in the nearest waiting room he found, head bowed, silently weeping into his hands. He hated himself. He wasn't strong enough to look at their dead child. He wasn't strong enough to be there for Ruth as she went through the worst thing imaginable. And he hated himself for it. God, what kind of man was he? What kind of husband?

He looked up and noticed everyone else was giving him a wide birth. It was clear he'd had bad news and maybe they thought it was catching. Karen, the doctor who'd delivered their daughter sat next to him. "You need to be with your family," she said quietly.

"I don't have a family," he said harshly. "I have a wife, and a daughter who never got the chance to live."

"Your wife needs you," she said simply. "And you need to hold your child."

"I need to hold her?!" he said in angry disbelief. "What difference will that make?! None at all! In my arms or not, she'll still be just as d…" He couldn't say it, so he bit his lip instead. "I can't," he said, voice calmer. "I can't look at our tiny baby, who should be safe and happy and well… and know that she'll never live. Never have the chance to even breathe on her own. I just can't do it."

Karen paused before speaking. "If you don't hold her when you have the chance, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." She spoke so simply and obviously that Harry turned to look at her. It wasn't a simple platitude, she'd experienced this before.

"You've lost a child."

"Yes," she said before taking a deep shuddering breath. "Ethan. I couldn't hold him. He was too fragile. Born far too early. It was all I wanted to do in the world. Pick him up, but I couldn't. His skin was so thin, any pressure and… well. I try not to think about it when I'm working."

"Why do you do the job then?" Harry asked in surprise. "After a loss like that."

"For a reason you won't want to hear at the moment," she said. "Because usually I bring happiness to parents. Not devastation."

"Ah." Harry leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "I don't know what to say to Ruth. How do I comfort her? I can't. I don't know if I can even bear look at our daughter."

"It's not important what you say," Karen said. "It's important that you're there."

Harry let two tears roll down his cheeks, feeling desolation sweep over him. He'd seen dozens of dead people before without it bothering him a jolt. But not a dead baby. And not a dead person who belonged to him so completely. A tiny soul who never got the chance to be.

"I have to go back in there don't I?" he said to no one in particular. "Oh God."

* * *

**Hope I'm keeping their reactions realistic, thanks for reading, and especially for the reviews so far.**


	4. Chapter 4

Harry stood outside Ruth's hospital room taking deep steadying breaths. It took a few minutes, but then he opened the door. Ruth was laying on the bed, bundle in her arms, eyes closed as she rocked the baby gently. When he opened the door, her eyes popped open. "Where have you been that's more important than here?" she asked coldly.

"Nowhere," he said, voice shaking. "I um…" He sighed before speaking honestly. "You're stronger than me. I'm sorry." She nodded slightly, if not understanding, not wanting to fight either. He sat in the chair next to her bed and allowed his eyes to drift to his daughter for the first time. She didn't look like he'd imagined. He thought she might look obviously dead, but she didn't. Just sleeping, her eyelashes laying against her soft cheeks as if in slumber. "She's beautiful," he said quietly.

"Yes," Ruth agreed. She looked up at him, her eyes watering. "She's perfect." She nodded at him then the baby in question and he agreed, knowing she was asking if he wanted to hold her. Ruth passed her across very carefully, and Harry took her in his arms. She felt too heavy. Like a dead weight, no life in her limbs and a lump took up residence in his throat.

"We need to name her," Harry said in a whisper. "She needs a name."

"We thought about Emily," Ruth reminded him, her palm wrapped around their daughters foot gently, unable to let her go completely, even with her husband holding her. "Or Elizabeth. Before this all went wrong, that was what we thought."

"Yes," Harry said distantly, studying the curve of their daughters cheek. "I don't know."

"You should name her," Ruth said. Harry looked up in surprise.

"Why?"

"Because it feels right that you should," she said, not mentioning the other reason. Over the last few months Ruth had felt every twitch of their child inside her own body. Every time she got hiccups, Ruth felt it. Every kick and elbow against her expanding skin. Every movement, when she rolled over or turned inside her. These were things that Harry simply couldn't know or ever experience. Yes, he felt the kicks, palm against her rounded stomach, but it was more personal when the child was inside your own body. It felt like a private secret, between her and the baby. Every motion that her daughter had ever made, Ruth had felt. Harry would never know what it was like to share your body with a child created with the person you loved. He couldn't know that. If he named her, he might feel like he had some input on her all too brief life. And Ruth had no idea what to name her either. No name could be as beautiful and perfect as their delicate but fragile daughter.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Karen poked her head around. "Can I come in?"

"Yes," Ruth said, not tearing her eyes away from Harry and their daughter.

"I know it's the last thing on your mind right now, but I need to check you over." Ruth sighed, but nodded, letting the doctor examine her. "Do you have any physical discomfort?"

"No," Ruth said honestly. All of her pain was internal. Harry got up and walked towards the window slowly as Ruth watched him. He cradled the baby very carefully and moved so the sunlight could shine on her face.

"You're okay," the doctor declared. Ruth got up and hurried over to Harry, not wanting to be away from either of them. He didn't speak, or even look at Ruth. Instead he watched his daughters permanently closed eyes, the sunlight shining on her pure delicate skin. Ruth screwed her face up in pain as she stroked her cheek.

"Lucy," Harry suggested quietly. "We could… call her Lucy." Ruth could hear the tremor in his voice, hiding it well as he was.

"Lucy sounds good," Ruth said quietly. "Oh God Harry." He turned to face Ruth and she could see tears slowly working their way down his face. He didn't look at her for long, just enough for her to know that his own heart was breaking too. Ruth pulled at her hospital gown, suddenly feeling very underdressed. She didn't have any clothes with her, having been sleeping when this nightmare started.

"Can you get me something to wear please?" she asked the doctor.

"I'll go," Harry said. "I want to… just, I'll go."

"Harry?" she asked quietly as he handed Lucy back to her.  
He sighed, body shaking. "I just need some fresh air," he said. "I'm sorry. I'll get some clothes for you. And Lucy."

"Okay," she said quietly, nodding. Harry leaned over her and pressed his forehead to his wife's.

"I'll be back soon," he assured her. Ruth nodded and let her lips turn up at the corners in a false smile.

"Okay." Harry touched Lucy's cheek gently and then sighed heavily, leaving the room.

After minutes of silence the doctor cleared her throat delicately. "Shall I leave you two alone."

Ruth smiled at her baby. "No," she said. "Just tell me why this happened."

"I can't," the doctor said. She pulled up a chair and sat next to Ruth. "I can take blood tests from you and Lucy, and run them for anomalies or diseases, medical conditions and see if there's a reason. But the most useful thing in giving us a reason would be… the post mortem, I'm sorry."

"No," Ruth said. "You're not doing a post mortem on her."

"I'd be very respectful," the doctor said.

"Like hell you would be!" Ruth said angrily. "There is no way you can slice a child open respectfully."

"Okay," the doctor said, not wanting her to be upset. "I won't touch her without your written permission, I promise."

"Good," Ruth said fervently. She felt her heart rate calm down after a moment or two and looked at Lucy in her arms. "You can check her blood," Ruth said, wishing Harry was here for a moment. It felt wrong to make this decision without him. "And mine."

"Okay," the doctor said. "Only if you're sure. There's no rush."

"I want to know why," Ruth said sadly. "This is so unfair."

"I know."

Ruth studied her critically for a moment. "I think you do know," she agreed.

"His name was Ethan," she said quietly to the unspoken question. "I'll get the blood testing kits." Ruth nodded as she was left alone. She held Lucy so tightly in her arms that she knew it wasn't wise, but she couldn't let her go. It wasn't like she could die twice after all.

* * *

Harry took a few steps outside the hospital in the brisk Spring air and tried to think. Then, finding thinking incredibly painful he walked back towards the building and punched the wall. It felt like he'd broken his knuckles and the blood started welling, but it was a pain he could dwell on. It felt good to have his internal pain as a more physical reminder. With a sigh he got his phone out of his pocket. He hadn't even given the grid much thought, but he knew that when he hadn't turned up this morning for work this morning they'd either be worried, or more actively searching for him. Sure enough there were a dozen missed calls and almost as many voicemails waiting for him. Instead of listening to them, he called Malcolm, biting his lip.

"Harry," Malcolm said with relief. "Are you all right? You never arrived."

"I'm fine," he lied. "You didn't send a unit after me to find out if I'd been kidnapped?"

"Well, I activated the GPS on your phone and found you were in St Mary's hospital. I assumed it was something to do with Ruth and the baby. So, good news?"

"Er… no. Not exactly." Harry sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong," Malcolm said, instantly picking up on the change of his voice.

"Um… I don't know… how to say it," Harry said quietly. "I can't… word it."

"Okay, one step at a time. Are you calling to tell me Ruth's dead?" he asked in a tone which made it clear he thought it was an impossibility.

"No," he said, but not with the relief at the stupid suggestion Malcolm expected.

"Okay," Malcolm said. "You don't have to tell me, I can live in ignorance, or hack in to the hospital database and find out what happened if you prefer. Rather than speaking," he said simply.

"No," Harry said. "Don't bother. Our daughter… she…" he took a ragged breath, glad Malcolm didn't interrupt. "Our baby was stillborn."

"Oh God," Malcolm said softly. "I'm so sorry." Harry sighed as Malcolm was quiet. "I don't know what to say."

"No. Neither do I," Harry replied. "I… Can you deal with everything? Work related I mean, get Adam in charge for a few days."

"Yeah of course, don't give it a second thought," Malcolm said. "And you can rely on my discretion. I won't breathe a word."

"No do," Harry said. "I can't bring myself to tell everyone. If you just let it slip… so I don't have to explain again and again… that would be good."

"Okay Harry, whatever you want. I'll get it done."

"Thank you. Listen, can you send me a car? I need to get home to pick up some things, and I came here in an ambulance, so can you…"

"On its way," Malcolm said quickly. "It'll be with you in six minutes."

"Great." Harry put the phone down before he could say anything stupid and took a heavy breath. What was he supposed to do now?

* * *

**Thank you for all the reviews so far for this difficult subject.**


	5. Chapter 5

Harry hovered outside the bedroom door, not wanting to go in. There would be blood on the sheets, a reminder of disaster and he wasn't sure how he'd face that. He bit his lip hard and went in. The patch of blood on the bed had dried brown and he swallowed uncomfortably. But it wasn't as much as he'd expected or remembered. Ignoring this for the moment, he went to the wardrobe and gathered Ruth's clothes quickly into a bag. Then after a moment, feeling his control snap he tore at the bed sheets, stripping the bed as fast as he could. Then he flipped the mattress over so the horrific bloodstain wouldn't be visible, before he remade the bed with fresh linens. He'd buy a new mattress at some point, but right now he had more important things to think about.

He bundled the bloody sheets up and threw them into a black bin liner, never wanting to see them again. He curled his hands into fists, feeling the sting of the knuckles on his right hand. Punching a wall was probably a stupid idea. He lingered outside what would have been Lucy's bedroom. They hadn't finished it yet, because there was still a few weeks until the due date. June 6th he remembered with a sinking heart. He opened the door and saw the crib which he'd assembled last week. They hadn't finished painting it yet, mostly because they hadn't agreed on a colour, and Harry had refused to have a pink room in his house. He'd paint it fluorescent pink with bright blue polka dots if that would give them their child back. How stupid! To have been arguing over the colours of the walls. There was a wooden chest of drawers which they'd been putting little things they'd collected over the past few months. Clothes, baby blankets, dummies and teddies.

Harry opened it, his heart racing. But everything in there was just as they'd left it. He picked up a lilac baby grow and felt the soft fabric through his fingers. Lucy would never wear this. It was too big for her because she'd been born a few weeks early. He rifled through the drawer and found a white and pink dress. He smiled absently at it and then added it to the bag of Ruth's clothes before he stopped to think about it.

* * *

"Careful!" Ruth said loudly as Karen was about to put a needle into Lucy's arm to draw her blood.

"I'll be very gentle," she said calmly.

Ruth watched critically, wincing as the needle pierced her child's precious skin and watching grimly as the small vial filled with Lucy's blood. Karen removed the needle and then gently wiped the tiny red mark away with a cotton swab. Ruth could feel the tiny sting in her own arm, where her blood had been drawn a few minutes before. "What do I do now?" she asked as Karen labelled the blood. "I mean… do we have a funeral? Do you handle that? What?"

"Whatever you'd like," Karen said quietly. "If you want a funeral, that's fine. If you can't cope with it, we can deal with it."

"Deal with it," Ruth repeated under her breath. "Like she's just a problem to get rid of."

"I didn't mean it like that, I assure you."

Ruth shook her head to herself and then looked up as the door opened. Harry came in, a bag of clothes in his hand. "Thank you," Ruth said. "Can you look after Lucy while I get dressed?"

Harry nodded, a lump in his throat as she passed the baby to him. The bathroom door closed, as did the door of the room behind the doctor. He was alone with his daughter. He rocked her slowly, as if lulling her to sleep, ignoring the silent tears rolling down his face.

* * *

**Might skip ahead a few days in time with the next chapter. Thank you for the reviews in spite of the dark subject matter.**


	6. Chapter 6

Ruth wrapped her arms around her middle, the phone clutched in her hand as she stared out of the window at the empty street. Harry was at work. Or rather, checking that central London wasn't blowing up, giving Adam some instruction and then coming back home as quickly as he could. Over the last 36 hours they'd been rolling around the large empty house hardly speaking and not knowing what to do with themselves. So Ruth had offered no protest when he'd uncomfortably said that he was needed for maybe half an hour on the grid and profusely apologised. All she'd done was shrug.

She didn't turn around when she heard the door open, instead she just stood in the kitchen and felt Harry's presence as he came in. "Ruth?"

"Mm," she said, not turning. "The hospital called."

"And?"

"And nothing," she said. "Nothing in the blood tests that shouldn't be there. No reason at all that Lucy died."

Harry sighed heavily, collapsing onto the kitchen chair. "You don't seem surprised."

"Thirty percent of still birth's have no medical reason at all," Ruth said. "No. I'm not surprised. Hurt, and angry. But not surprised." She kept staring out of the window and Harry felt his heart break all over again, watching her haunted face. He walked up to her and pried her fingers off of the phone which she was holding in an iron tight grip. He got it away from her and then stood in front of her. He sighed heavily, no idea what to say.

"We're burying her tomorrow," she said quietly. "I… don't know if I can be there. How am I supposed to stand it?"

"I don't know," he said.

"She's in a wooden box, and I'm so weak I can't even go and see her."

"You are not weak," he said. He couldn't go and see Lucy in her tiny white coffin either. Couldn't see her innocent beautiful face cold in a box. He reached for her cold hand and gripped it tightly between his. "I don't know what to say to you," he admitted, feeling helpless.

"There's nothing to say," she said. Finally she turned to him, her blue eyes focused on his. "Harry, after the… funeral I want to come back to work."

"No."

"I need to," she said urgently. "I feel so useless Harry. Women all over the world give birth to healthy babies every single day. And all I had to do was carry her and keep her safe. And I failed."

"This isn't your fault Ruth."

"No?" she asked, shaking her head. "Then whose fault is it, if it isn't mine?"

"I don't think it's anyone's fault."

"I miss her. I miss the fact that we never got to know her," she said.

"I know," he said, feeling a lump in his throat. "I know Ruth, believe me. I may not have carried her, but I miss her. I want to hold her and comfort her too…"

"Harry don't…" she said, shaking her head. "I'll cry." Against his better judgement, he closed his mouth. She took a deep breath and spoke again. "Just tell me whether you're objecting to my coming back to work as my husband or my boss."

"Both," he said fervently. "As your husband, I'm convinced that coming back to work so soon… in that environment of destruction cannot be good for you. As your boss, you're not mentally ready." She glared at him, ice in her eyes. "I hate saying it, but its true."

"Stick me behind a desk and give me low level paper work that I can't mess up," she said urgently. "I can't be here, rattling around the house, the torturous temptation to look in Lucy's bedroom that she'll never sleep in."

"I don't know Ruth," he said. "I'm not even back yet. I don't know if it's right…"

"I ask so little of you," she said, eyes begging. "I need this. Please."

Harry sighed heavily, and nodded. "After the weekend," he said. "I don't think this is right you know," he added.

"I know," she said. "Thank you." She leaned her head against his and he very gently put his arms around her. It was the first time they'd really touched since… well, _since_. It was a long time before he let her go.

* * *

That night neither of them slept, not that they'd really expected to. They kept rigidly to their own sides of the bed. At about two in the morning Harry switched the light on and turned to Ruth. She lay on her side, eyes wide and the sheet clutched to her chest. He didn't say anything. Words were less than meaningless right now. He put his hand on her waist and pulled her close against him. She felt an emptiness around her stomach where her child had been. A cold emptiness when her skin touched Harry too soon. There should be a bump between them. Swallowing uncomfortably, she rested her head against his shoulder. Harry stroked her hair lightly, feeling some comfort in her warmth next to him.

He breathed in her familiar scent and felt a shudder go through him. He was breaking, he could feel it happen. He was taking in gulps of air down deep into his chest and he was shaking. He'd been trying to be strong for Ruth and taking her in his arms had been to try and give her some comfort. He hadn't expected to fall apart, tears falling down his face into Ruth's hair.

"Oh Harry," she said quietly, feeling his shaking. He tightened his grip on her and she didn't protest, even when his fingers started digging into her waist painfully. Somewhere inside her she knew that he needed her comfort and she didn't pull away. Not that she really wanted to in the first place. She felt tears pricking her own eyes, but she didn't cry. She just rested against him, letting him hold her.

"Tomorrow…" he murmured.

"Yes," she said. She didn't want to think about tomorrow. She shifted up the bed and pressed a chaste gentle kiss to his lips.

"Can you sleep?" he asked quietly.

"I doubt it."

"Try," he said, without any demand in his voice. She closed her eyes, his hands stroking her back soothingly. She closed her eyes, and much to her surprise, she slipped into sleep.


End file.
